Love. Are we obsessed with it? We say it, make it, create holidays revolving around it, write about it, cry about it and make big plans surrounding it.
Love. What does that word even mean? I know it’s a noun, but is it a concrete noun or an abstract noun?
Love. And is anything to do with love ever truly concrete or abstract…. Is it all true and dependable, or is it all a fake?
Love. Those four letters can be placed in a sentence of three words that can mean a lot or can mean a little. And its meaning itself can be sometimes broken, occasionally fixed, always transformed and never forgotten.
But as of lately I’ve started thinking that love isn’t just a rush of feelings, but rather a series of long drawn out dealings. If it’s for a moment it’s infatuation, but if after the first fight, the second heartbreak, the third goodbye we’re still together; then it’s love.
Love -- is picking a path and staying on it, no matter what potholes or caution signs or fears lay ahead in the distance. Of course not every path leads in the right direction, as anyone who travels anywhere knows, and sometimes the only thing to do is abandon the journey.
Love, maybe more than a path even, is like a galaxy. It sends you traveling through unknown spaces where everything is dark and choices seem endless -- until you find a light reflecting through the vastness, which is just bright enough to make what could’ve been a blind journey clearly worthwhile.
Love. Can we ever say it enough?
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